The Trust
by Utashi
Summary: "There was a time when I used to love rainy days. Of course, there was a time when I was joyful, drunk on life, and loved everything. There was a time when I trusted people, blindly. Those were the times when I was a fool. In life there are no comedies, handsome princes, or happy endings. There are only tragedies."


**Author's Note: Yes, I am starting **_**another**_** Ouran fanfiction. I just can't help myself. I love Kyoya (and the entire show) too much. I don't, of course, own OHSHC, only my characters and plot. I hope you enjoy this story, and you're free to check out my other Ouran fics as well. Comments/suggestions/reviews are cherished! **

**One more thing before I shut up. If anyone was wondering where the title of the story came from, there was an organization called The Trust created by Felix Dzerzhinsky, who was also involved in the founding of the Cheka in 1917. The basic concept of the organization was to collect money from Russian émigrés to fund the stop of communism. Of course that was a façade, and it gave the communists a list of who was opposed to them (and free money). I just thought that was ironic/amusing/okay I'll shut up now.**

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Chapter 1

A Great Privilege

"_I am afraid we must make the world honest before we can honestly say to our children that honesty is the best policy." –George Bernard Shaw_

There was a time when I used to love rainy days. Of course, there was a time when I was joyful, drunk on life, and loved everything. There was a time when I trusted people, blindly. Those were the times when I was a fool. I suppose there is truth in the phrase "_With great wisdom _[or power, some may say]_ comes great responsibility_." There is the responsibility to bear the burden of seeing what others do not, and the responsibility to accept that happiness is found only in ignorance. I no longer enjoy playing in the rain; I see it only as another task, knowing that afterward I shall have to clean the mud from my master's shoes. Life will never again be the great gift I once thought it to be, but only another burden that we must suffer through for a time, until we fade away into some uncertain unknown, and are washed away by the darkness. In life there are no comedies, handsome princes, or happy endings. There are only tragedies, and happiness is but a state of mitigated pain, with the promise that it will soon intensify and come again.

The only relief to be found in this life is escape. We shall never have true freedom, for, despite our struggles, we will always be bound to our thoughts and emotions, and to our past. From this truth I find relief in literature. I can bear the burdens of others, for it takes my mind away from my own. Nothing else can distract me from my pain the way literature does, not even sleep.

I was reading that Thursday morning (It was the last day of summer vacation.) when he tromped into my quarters. I could say room, but it would imply a standard of luxury that I am not afforded. My living space, narrowly bigger than a full bathroom, is composed of a bed, a single bedside table, and a closet. The dusty, scuffed hardwood floor is not well kept, unlike the flooring in the rest of the house, and neither are the cream flower-patterned walls in a better state. The only aspect that makes the room bearable is the beautiful bay window that offers a view into the garden. They are shut now, however, to block out the pitiably dreary rain.

"Still reading those stuffy old books, are you, Madeleine?" He was still dressed in his pajamas, his scorching blonde hair only mildly tousled. His blue-green eyes were clouded with sleep, though normally I've heard girls swear they're so clear one can see their reflection in them. I had to admit, he was beautiful. But I knew better. Evil often takes beautiful faces because its true face is too hideous to behold.

I snapped the thick volume shut and hugged it to my chest, as if to protect it from his cruel words and even crueler actions. "They are not stuffy, but yes, I am, sir." As always there was respect in my tone; however, it was commanded, not deserved. I slid down from my bed and kneeled before him on the floor. It was cold, but I suppose he didn't mind it because cool frigidity suited him down to the bone.

"Dearest Madeleine," He chucked me under the chin, and I rose. "Thou needst not be so formal to thine own brother! I wish you would call me so." He lamented this with an exaggerated sweep of his hand.

There were so many physical similarities between us that it almost seemed silly that I could not truthfully call him so. I have never been inclined to be vain, but I am told I am as beautiful as my master. We both share the same golden blonde hair, the slim, graceful figures, the long lashes and cheekbones. But there is one difference on the surface, and even more on the inside. Where his eyes are a vibrant, lucid blue-green (sometimes they even vacillate between the two hues), mine are a dark, depthless blue, like the sky just after sundown. Many call us twins, but in my heart I refuse to accept that he is my brother. Although the public believes so, I, and he, and this family, know that he is not.

"Are you going out? What would you have me do?" _Or perhaps a better question is what would you have me _not? With all that he daily asks of me, I may as well be tending to a baby. We have cooks and chefs, yet he makes me prepare him food. We have butlers and maids, but I must take his coat, and prepare his things, and dress him. He has, or assumedly has, a brain of his own, but I must do his school work for him. In all intents and purposes, I am his personal servant.

"No, no, I am staying in. But stay. Dress me, dress yourself, and then down to breakfast. It has already been prepared, and Mother and Father wait." He clapped his hands, and like a dog I followed him out of the servants' wing and into his own, more lavish room.

"To what do I owe this great privilege?" I asked him as I helped him dress. As per usual, he was too dense to catch my sarcasm.

"We are going to have a little chat, just like the happy family we are."

Like everything else in my life, nothing could be further from the truth.

* * *

After I had taken care of Caesar (oh, indeed, he insisted we all address him so), I returned to my room to get dressed myself. Since I assumed we would only be talking, and I wouldn't have to do any work, I wore one of my casual dresses. It was separated into two sections, made to look like a top and a skirt. The upper-half was lacy and white, the bottom ruffled with alternating frills of brown and white. I made it myself from the spare fabric I clandestinely snagged each time I sewed one of Caesar's outfits, which was quite often. I didn't feel like bothering to put my hair up, so I just brushed it and let it fall. The blonde curls reached to my waist, and my bangs looked sort of like the wings of an angel in flight, parted in the center of my forehead and flouncing down just above my eyes.

Breakfast and Mother and Father were, as promised, waiting downstairs in the dining hall. I had only ever been in here a handful of times, being that I was required to dine in my own room. It was superfluously beautiful; its ceilings, with hand-painted murals, were high, and the dining table in the centre of the room could, but never to my knowledge did, hold at least thirty people comfortably. There were "classy" paintings hung about the walls, and the entirety of the room was themed rich red and gold.

Father sat at the head of the table, Mother on his right, and Caesar across from her on Father's left. I felt that my presence did not belong, and would upset the perfect balance of the seating arrangement. I dropped a curtsey and a heartless smile, and sat beside Mother. "Good morning, all." I took it upon myself to speak, since no one else was talking, or even eating.

"Yes, well, let's begin." My father's voice was without the familiar love and warmth it used to hold. I no longer knew the man.

"I have decided that Caesar's current school is not good enough for him." A glance across the table at the person in question told me that it was his decision, not Father's. "Therefore, he will be starting this upcoming school year at Ouran High School."

I had heard the name before, in passing. From my knowledge, it seemed like a daycare for snobby rich children that did not actually include any learning whatsoever. Our current education was pristine, the school being known for the best academic program in the country, but of course brother _would_ prefer to go to the rich playground. I suppose that was fine with me, considering that _I _do all of his schoolwork anyway.

"That is great, Father, but in what way does this affect me?" Clearly I, a servant, wouldn't be allowed in, so I didn't see the point of my presence at the meeting. I hated wasting time, and thus far that is all this gathering has done.

"It is not the place of little impatient servant girls to interrupt their employers." Father snapped. _O, constancy, be strong upon my side, /Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!_ I said nothing, simply held my temper and bowed.

Here, Mother spoke. "Since we are all aware that you take care of Caesar's schoolwork, we thought it would be best if you two went to the same school, to make it easier on both of you, you see."

With an irritating smirk, Caesar added, "Yes, I simply couldn't bear to be parted from my precious little servant!"

"Very well." I consented. Truth be told, I did not favor one school over the other. I hated everyone at my current school (and they hated me), and I had no inclination to think that my opinions about the people of this school would be any different, nor theirs of me.

"Excellent," Father said, but he did not sound pleased by my approval; on the contrary, it rather sounded like I would be going whether I approved or not. Such was my way of life. "We are finished here then. Madeleine, you are excused from your duties today so that you will have adequate time to prepare for school tomorrow. You'll go to the Headmaster tomorrow to receive your schedules. Dismissed."

We all rose from the table. Father, Mother, and Caesar went off in separate directions, to do God knew what. None of the food at the table had been touched.

* * *

I essentially earned a free day. Of course I couldn't afford the uniform (I was already paying for book fees out of my own pocket), and without asking I already knew Father wouldn't pay for it. In my experience, we rarely did anything on the first day of school, so I didn't need more than a small bag and maybe some paper and a pen. And a hefty supply of books would also be in order, to keep me company. It wasn't necessarily that I was anti-social or shy, but most people found me… eccentric, and none I had ever met were willing to deal with my snarky comments and temper. Even fewer understood my passion for literature, and for quoting it. So for this they hated me, or at least maintained an air of indifference; I simply put up my walls and reciprocated. I can't say that I've never been lonely.

After I finished getting ready for school, I spent the remainder of the day reading in the window. Even though I hate the rain now, I still can't help but love reading by it. Its tenebrous light casts a beautiful shadow over the pages, and those who inhabit it. I prefer the clouds to sunshine; somehow the blinding rays of the sun seem artificial to me, as if no one's flame can shine that brightly for that long. There is no joy that can outshine the sun, and the star seems to know it, and flaunt it in our faces too. Not so with the clouds or the moon. They are more realistic; they have shadows and obscure secrets. They are imperfect and mortal; as are we.

I lost time, and myself, in reading, and before I knew it, it was already time to retire. The next morning was chaos. Caesar, more vain and ambivalent than usual, couldn't decide on an outfit for his first day of school. I suppose I couldn't really blame him, seeing that he had two closets the size of generous bedrooms, and both were filled. It took him an hour to decide, and in the end he chose a dressy silk shirt and some nice shorts. A relatively normal outfit for him, until he decided to add a cape and a _crown_. As much as I wanted to protest, I didn't have the time. I had to rush to dress myself, in an ocean blue flower dress, and then dash out the door. Caesar was just getting into the limo as I came outside. When I moved to climb in after him, he stopped me.

"You're a servant. I can't be seen with you in public!" He sounded disgusted. _I _was disgusted by his sheer level of unparalleled idiocy. "You walk."

I sighed, holding the straps of my bag tightly in my hand. "I'll be late."

"Best get started then." Caesar winked and ducked into the limo. With an annoying feeling of anger bubbling in my throat, I watched them speed off.

I didn't care if it pissed him off to Hell, I was _not_ walking. Thankfully, we had more than one limo, so I went back inside and asked one of the chauffeurs if they could drive me. Most of the servants were pretty amiable, and I was glad of it. They agreed.

* * *

_1__st__ period—World History Advanced_

_Homeroom—D-H Freshmen_

_2__nd__ period—Conversational French_

_3__rd__ period—AP Chemistry_

_4__th__ period—Theatre I_

_5__th__ period—Co. Ed. P.E._

_6__th__ period— AP Geometry _

_7__th__ period—AP English (Literature and Composition)_

After wandering around the enormous campus for a short time (fortunately they had maps at the entrance), I found the Headmaster's office and picked up my schedule. Even though I was only a first year, I was taking some second-year classes. Caesar was a second year, and since I ended up doing his work it was basically like taking the class. I liked Chemistry, so I skipped the ninth grade version and went straight to AP. Same for English. I actually wanted to take the fourth-year AP English class, but this was the highest jump they would allow. I was interested in history, but not so enthusiastic as to take on another tenth grade course. I loathed geometry, but they put me in the advanced class regardless because of my good scores in algebra. I especially adored Shakespeare and plays, so I decided to try a hand at acting. P.E. was non-optional.

I had some time left before the start of first period, so I headed over to check out their library. In my haste this morning, I forgot to grab a book I wanted to re-read, so I figured I would just borrow it from here for the day. To my surprise, and elation, they had multiple libraries. Unfortunately, they were noisy, crowded with students lazing around and chatting before the start of class. I tried to pick the least populated one, but they were all really about the same.

Like everything else about this school, it seemed to be over the top and extremely pink. I made my way to the S section of the library, which was thankfully empty. The chatter from the front of the room was muted in the back section. Didn't these people understand libraries were meant for quiet? They were places to be revered, wherein thoughts and emotion flourished and it was the words' time to speak. Libraries were supposed to be romantic. Lit low by candlelight, rain pattering against the windows and thundering grumbling in the distance, a secret place where one escaped from the overwhelming burden of the world and society. And then of course the clandestine meetings between a man and a woman, the secret love they shared, the gentle kisses, ruffled skirts, and caressing sighs and whispers of adoration—

Ah, there it was. The book I wanted was on the very top shelf, about eight inches above my head. I had always been rather short, only being an unimposing 5"2. Nevertheless, I wanted the book, and, if I had anything to do with it, it would come down. The first couple of times I jumped, I missed, but I did succeed in teasing it closer to the edge of the shelf. The next time, I caught it in my hand and yanked it down, but I also pulled free the books surrounding it. As I watched them fall toward me, an annoyingly useless instinct kicked in, and without thinking I closed my eyes and threw my arms over my head.

There was no impact. Unless gravity had somehow decided to reverse itself between now and then and send the books flying back up onto the shelf, someone had presumably caught them. I opened my eyes and immediately blushed and wished I hadn't. Standing in front of me was a boy. He was rather close, so much so that my back was pressed uncomfortably against the bookshelf, using one of his hands to hold the books aloft and the other pressed against the bookcase to support himself. He was too close for me to see his face, but I did notice—not intentionally—his firm, though not bodybuilder toned, chest.

"Thank you," I said, neutrally, hoping to end this awkward situation as soon as possible. I know I said before that I wasn't socially awkward, but that was a lie.

He didn't move, and now I could feel his eyes staring down at me. "Which book did you want?"

"_Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,/Which busy care draws in the brains of men./Therefore thou sleep'st so sound." _Sometimes I quoted things reflexively, the words just flying out of my mouth without any effort or planning on my part. This was one of those times. I rather felt bad for the boy, and was about to tell him which book I wanted when he moved.

He put all of the books back but one. He handed that one to me, but I didn't look down at it; instead I watched his face. He had the most interesting steely gray eyes, like pools of melted silver tainted with dripping coal, but his glasses obscured them. I decided then that I liked those eyes, if nothing else about him. After an eerie pause, I smiled, thanked him again, and he began to walk away. As he did, I looked down at the book he had given me, and my mouth parted in a silent gasp. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him smirk as he disappeared out the door. I couldn't believe he had gotten it right. The book he handed me was _Julius Caesar._

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**Author's Note: I'm sorry there wasn't much of the hosts in this chapter, but I had to cut it here or else it would be way too long (like twice this size). So there'll be a lot of them all in the next chapter. What do you think so far? Whether you loved it or hate it, etc., any reviews are welcome. See you next chapter! **


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